The Duke's Twin novel Chapter 7

Wiltshire shot a triumphant glance at his brother, that wicked smile on display again, but it was touched with a gentleness this time, which surprised her. It was clear now how close the two were, how much they enjoyed one another's company.

Just as Lydia and I feel about each other.

For a moment she entertained the daydream of being married to Wiltshire and Lydia being married to Beresford, and how they might spend much of their time together. They would live close by and never be parted for long. It was something she would give almost anything to have, a life close to her beloved sister. But it was a dream. Wiltshire was not for her. Yet her sister had dared her to be bold and brave, to be herself.

The duke sauntered over the women like a proud and conquering warrior, taking the empty chair next to Rebecca. He rolled his racket handle along the length of his lean thigh, watching her through hooded eyes.

"Do you play, Miss Livingston?" She could have sworn she saw him wink.

"I do...as well as any lady, I suppose."

"Excellent. We shall play while Miles takes your sister to the far side of the lake."

Lydia joined them as Mr. Beresford handed over his racket. Rebecca's father looped their mother's arm through his, a delighted grin on his face as he escorted their mother away toward from the lake, no doubt to allow love to blossom away from prying eyes.

Mr. Beresford turned to Lydia. "I've set up your easel by the lake, Miss Lydia. It would be my honor to take you there."

His face, so full of hope and excitement, made Rebecca's throat tighten. The man seemed to be truly enchanted by Lydia. Good. Their mother had said Mr. Beresford had a wealthy estate, Beresford House, the next bit of land to the east. And if what her sister had said of him was true, they would make a good match. Their mother would have preferred she marry the duke-or, more to the point, the title that came with him-but that didn't matter, at least not to Lydia.

"It seems we are alone, Miss Livingston," said Wiltshire. "Are you prepared to face your doom upon the court?" A wolfish grin crossed his lips as he pointed his racket toward the lawn.

An impish desire to play and tease him back took over, and, remembering her sister's dare, she gave in, relishing in the freedom that came with just being herself.

"My doom? You will be begging for mercy in a few minutes, Your Grace." She raised her chin in defiance as she strode across the grass.

"Then come and fight me, little amazon." He took up his position, shuttlecock in hand. He continued to smile even as he fired the shuttlecock at her like a bullet.

She squealed and jumped, but not fast enough. It smacked her in the bottom as she tried to flee. A flicker of anger shot through her, along with something hotter and darker. She shoved the feeling aside and retrieved the feathered ball. She tossed it aloft and then whacked it hard in his direction. He leapt aside with a none-too-graceful shout.

"So much for civilized sportsmanship," said the duke.

She giggled. "I thought you wished to have a challenge."

"Very well then-have at you!"

"Bloody hell." The duke groaned and gently rolled her off him. "I apologize, Miss Livingston. I forgot myself."

He hastily stood and helped her to her feet. A strange emotion clouded his eyes, as if he was confused. What he had to be confused about Rebecca wasn't sure. She only knew the sting of disappointment she felt when they hadn't kissed. It would have been wonderful, she knew, yet now she would never have the chance again. He'd no doubt come to his senses.

"Please, allow me to escort you down to the lake." Wiltshire offered his arm to her, that rakish smile back in place. She was beginning to see that sometimes that smile he wore was a mask. While they'd played badminton, she'd glimpsed another smile, one that was real, sweeter and more seductive than this practiced rakish grin ever could be. He'd let his guard down with her, if only for a little while.

She brushed the grass off her dress and slipped her arm through his as he led her down the sloping lawn toward the lake. Two easels were set up, and Lydia was already painting. Mr. Beresford stood beside her, attentive as ever, even holding her palette of paint for her while they talked eagerly about something. Rebecca couldn't hear because she and the duke were still too far away.

Rebecca noticed with chagrin that her own easel was quite far away from her sister's. No doubt it had arranged like that on purpose.

Lovely. Rebecca sighed and took her seat at the second easel. She started to take up her palette, but the duke reached for it first.

"Allow me."

"Oh! You don't have to" she began